Page 74 of A Very Daddy Christmas

“Not a bad idea, at least for crowd control,” my sister replies. “But we can’t afford to pay them much.”

Sebastian shakes his head. “Don’t worry about costs. The more Hamilton and St. James invest in destroying you, the more we’re willing to invest in fighting back and settling the score.”

“I feel like we’re in the middle of a war,” I say, my stomach churning.

“It is a war. We started it the minute we put that escrow money in,” Eva says, then looks at Sebastian. “Security detail sounds great. Legally speaking, I think any protest needs to be at a particular distance from our business. Maybe a detail could enforce that, because you know the sheriff’s deputy isn’t going to do a damned thing.”

“I’ll make it happen,” Sebastian says, then checks his watch.

I feel awful. The guys have their final push for their big campaign tonight. “Please don’t feel like you have to stay. You guys have enough on your plates. You’ve got the campaign and—”

“I’ll stay until the security detail gets here,” he cuts me off, fingers already swiping through his phone for the right number. He steps away and moves closer to the window to make his call, while Eva leans in with a crooked smile.

“Have you told him yet?” she whispers.

“Seriously? Today, of all days?” I grumble.

She offers a careless shrug. “We’re screwed for the day, anyway. What else is left for me to do?”

“No, I haven’t told him yet,” I mumble. “Clearly, not the right time and place.”

She chuckles. “You should hurry up, sis. You’re gonna start showing soon.”

It is literally the last thing on my mind. At this point, I just want to see the bakery back in business, undisturbed by rumors and fiery, ridiculous protests. This whole thing is just one big circus, a shit show designed to soil our reputation and carve into our sales. They are really that desperate, and we cannot yield, under any circumstances.

The helplessness is killing me. But Sebastian is right. We’ve come too far to give up now.

After Sebastian leaves, I find a sliver of peace in seeing the deputy’s car parked across the street and six large gentlemen in black suits keeping the thinning crowd of protesters at bay. Hamilton is gone. I assume he can’t afford to squat outside my bakery all day, and neither can a good chunk of his loyal flock.

We’ve yet to welcome any customers for the day, but at least the front door is unlocked and the sidewalk is clear of crazy folks. They were told they need to keep a certain distance so as not to disrupt our business, though it’s already been disrupted. And it hurts. I take comfort in knowing Hamilton and St. James don’t have any proof of my relationship with Sebastian, Waylan, and Riggs. Just a rumor they’ve worked hard to grow into the clusterfuck it has become.

“How are you holding up?” Eva asks. She’s boxing up some of this morning’s pastries for the soup kitchen while I keep busy by refilling the sugar and sweetener containers, along with other various tasks in the café area.

My heart feels so heavy.

“I’m doing okay, I guess. I feel like crap.”

“Me, too,” she replies. “Carl wanted to come over, but he has his interview with Waylan’s buddy today.”

“That’s great! I appreciate he wanted to come.” I sigh. “Carl has lost enough because of all this. I couldn’t bear it if—”

“You’ve lost plenty, too,” Eva says. “Stop taking yourself out of the conversation.”

My shoulders drop in bitter defeat. “We’re all losing a lot here. Where does it end?” I hate sounding so dismal, but everything is really getting to me and dragging me down.

“We can’t keep going like this, not for long, anyway,” I add, letting my worst fears get past my lips. “What is Sebastian supposed to do next? Cover our daily estimated sales? There’s only so much he and the guys can do, anyway. And—”

“You want to know if it’s worth it, huh?”

I give Eva a sad look. “Yeah.”

“I don’t have all the answers. I only have years’ worth of hard work in this place. An unending devotion to our father’s business and passion, which became ours. Well, that and a huge ego because I would rather burn this whole building down than let St. James and Hamilton get their grubby claws on it,” she replies.

I’d laugh if things weren’t so grim.

“I want to say it’s worth it, but then I look at the toll it’s already taken,” I say. “I look ahead at the days and weeks to come. Say we get through with that escrow. Say we manage to keep thebuilding. What then? Our reputation is ruined.”

“I told you, that’s temporary.”

---